Page 72 of The King's Queen

“But they’re dying.”

“That’s why they’re so desperate. If you show them even one drop of your miracle, they’ll rip you apart with their bare hands to save themselves, and no guard could ever protect you. You can’t.”

I pause for a moment, my gaze wandering to those around me. People who I could save. Then I feel Tanja’s pleading stare boring holes into my spine and sigh.

“We need to get to Blaine.”

Blaine, who I haven’t seen in two years. Blaine, who swore he would return alive. I can still remember the pressure of his lips on mine, the desperation I could taste on them mixed with the salt of my own tears. Can feel the shade of the tree we had to hide behind to say our goodbyes. He smiled so sweetly, nothing but joy on his face, before he sprinted to catch up to the other soldiers saying their goodbyes.

I also remember the lonely nights, rereading his letters he sent from the battlefront. I clutch the most recent one tightly in my hand despite having memorized its contents.

The worst has come to pass. You will see me soon, my love. I will leave a light on.

I woke up this morning with a lightness in my heart that I haven’t felt in nearly two years, back before he left to fight in this damned war. I can sense that light fading now as I watch the healers collapse and men die on cramped tables. What type of condition is Blaine in to have landed himself in a room full of dying men?

A hard knot coils in my stomach.

Then I spot it. A mop of dark curly hair, still the exact same as if I’d ran my fingers through it moments before, not two years ago. A grin splits across my face. My light even in places as dark as these. He’s come home.

“Tanja look, it’s him! It’s…”

Tanja stands deathly still, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she chokes down silent sobs. Her shoulders curve inward and shake as silver tears snake down her pretty face. My heart stops for a moment as I watch her reaction.

“Tanja?” A gut-wrenching cry is the only response I receive.

My feet move on their own accord, flying over severed limbs, bloody rags, and stone without losing my footing once. My breathing slows as time suddenly stops. The scent of blood burns my nose, and I begin to choke, but nothing matters. Nothing matters except for him.

Blaine. My love. My light.

My wounded.

Several healers crowd around him, some dropping to the floor, screaming in agony the moment his skin touches theirs. I push past the ones who have fallen to look upon his face, and the world falls out from beneath my feet.

His skin is a sickly shade of grey with sweat coating it in a grimy sheen. His breathes come out in short puffs as his chest rises and falls to keep up with the infection. I trace the blood on his body downwards to his leg.

Gods, his leg.

Pristine, white bones protrude from his gored flesh, chunks of skin and meat still clinging to it. Yellow liquid runs from the wound, congealing in clumps along his dark skin to stain it hues of greens.

Who could have done this to him? Who could bear to do this? Who could…

Sunlit smiles and running from the palace guards flash through my mind. All those times we hid in the stables from Ms. Eida or tried on the crowns and swords in the royal treasury.

Moments that can slip away in a second. Moments that mean nothing if his heart ceases to beat. Moments of a life I can’t bear to live if he’s not living with me.

“Blaine.” I try to clutch for his hand, but someone wraps their arms around my waist. The guards. They’ve found me.

“No, Blaine! Wake up, wake up!” His eyes remain closed as more hands grab for my arms, my legs.

The scream that tears loose form my throat is guttural as I claw and scrape myself forward on nothing but my fingernails to get to him. The skin beneath my nails tear and leave bloody gold smears on the already crimson-stained floor. I choke through sobs to reach him, to hold him. To watch him open his eyes with laugh and a smile and tell me we are fine. He is fine.

“LET GO OF ME!”

My fingers brush against his, and his silver eyes flutter open as if on command. As if he heard that I need someone to save me. His lips almost curve into a smile before he looks down towards his leg.

And he screams.

The shock I felt then isn’t unsimilar to the one I feel now as I watch the healers gather around him, his leg twisted cruelly beneath him. He bites down tightly on a belt as an aiding physician resets it with a splint, and the available healers attend to the smaller hurts that litter his body.

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